


Good Night

by UselessReptileWrites



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Food mention, Gen, Undertale Pacifist Route, let the kid sleep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-02
Updated: 2018-07-02
Packaged: 2019-05-28 16:38:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15053405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UselessReptileWrites/pseuds/UselessReptileWrites
Summary: Frisk is ready to trade the entire kingdom of monsters for even just an hour of uninterrupted sleep. But will they find it?





	Good Night

The first time that Frisk slept in the underground was in Toriel’s house.

They’d been exhausted from their long day; falling down a hole and then running away from all the monsters trying to kill them really took a lot out of a person. Frisk was now hating the fantasy books they’d read that showed the main characters acting like it was just a normal, everyday occurrence.

So when Toriel gave them a room, and they saw it had a bed, they swallowed any pride that might’ve insisted they say they weren’t tired and crawled in, pulled the duvet over their head, curled into the smallest ball they could manage, and closed their eyes.

The moment they fell asleep, they had a dream.

They were lying on a bed, their body feeling heavy like stone, the blankets crushing rather than comforting. Something wet and cool draped itself over its forehead, and something large and furry was patting their hand.

Someone spoke. It sounded like a name, and it sounded really important. Frisk focused on the words.

“Please, wake up!” The voice continued. It was deep and slow, but urgent nevertheless. “You are the future of humans and monsters!”

Frisk twitched awake, their eyes still gummy from exhaustion. The room was now dark. Toriel must’ve come in and turned off the light after realizing they’d gone to bed.

What was that dream about? It seemed important, important enough to jolt out of bed.

_Well, I can think about it later,_  Frisk thought. Right now, they just wanted to get some proper rest.

They laid back in bed and closed their eyes.

They were woken again by a deep, rumbling voice was at once comforting and heartbreaking.

“Stay determined!” they said.

Frisk jolted awake. They felt like they hadn’t even gotten proper rest at all.

Well, that was that. They obviously weren’t getting any sleep at all with that voice insisting they woke up and “stayed determined” or whatever that meant. They had a question to ask Toriel.

* * *

The second time Frisk got a chance to sleep in the underground they nearly cried with relief.

The fight with Toriel had woken them up–it was hard to stay sleepy when someone was throwing fire at you, or creeping up behind you, or declaring that they’d capture you–but the adrenaline had only lasted so long. By the time Frisk had reached the puzzle with the flashing tiles, the only thing from stopping them from going to sleep outside was the fact that there was snow everywhere. They’d seen enough movies to know going to sleep in the cold was a bad idea.

Subsequently, they were finding a lot of things funnier than they should. Papyrus spinning off into the distance after his puzzle failed nearly made Frisk fall over into the snow from laughter, and they were laughing at all their own jokes about the “snow poffs” and snow decahedrons they were seeing along the way.

It was a miracle they didn’t laugh through monsters killing them, and they knew if Papyrus confronted them again they’d be done for and have to trudge through waist-deep snow again, so when the shopkeeper rabbit mentioned a nearby inn they saw their chance and jumped at it.

“Hello, there,” the innkeeper said, smiling down at the child as they approached the front desk. Her ears stood straight up, like antennae, and she was blushing, or maybe was wearing blush on her fur. A small, white-furred child peeked up over the counter next to her, button nose twitching. “Welcome to Snowed Inn, little one!”

Frisk nodded, feeling kind of worried. Would the innkeeper refuse to let them stay because they were a child?

The innkeeper’s face softened. “Are you wanting a room to stay in?”

Frisk could practically hear the angels singing, “Hallelujah” in the distance.

They nodded so hard they nearly banged their chin on the counter.

The innkeeper tried to hide her soft laugh behind a hand. “Okay, then. One night is eighty gold.”

Frisk frowned and dug through their pockets. They’d managed to get some gold on the way, but they hadn’t been keeping count of how much, and they’d bought some nice cream on the way over.

The woman waited patiently as Frisk piled the coins on the counter and began sliding them into another pile, remaining patient as they counted the numbers in their head. Or maybe she was only pretending to be, and thinking mean thoughts about them in her head. Frisk tried to keep their fingers steady, but what if they messed up and gave her only seventy-nine gold coins? Would she kick them out and never let them in again?

Finally, they pushed the last coin into the pile. Fifty eight. They frowned and felt their eyes prickle with tears. They looked up at the woman and shook their head.

The rabbit’s eyes went wide and she placed her hand over her mouth.

_They’re going to yell at me,_  they thought, flinching.

“Oh, you poor thing!” The voice made Frisk pause. She didn’t sound angry. “You don’t even have eighty gold? I can only imagine what you’ve been through.” Her nose twitched, and she reached under the counter. “I have an empty room upstairs,” she said, and handed them a key. It was kind of rusty and dull, and a well-worn yarn rabbit had been attached to the keyring. There was a “1” stitched onto the rabbit’s back. “You stay here as long as you like, okay?”

Frisk took the key. It had the faint smell of cinnamon that made them think of Toriel.

Eyes watering, they nodded and walked up the stairs.

They walked up the stairs and walked down the hallway before they found the door with a “1” painted onto it. They unlocked it and stepped inside.

The room was a bit chilly, but not as frigid as it was outside, so they were sure as long as they stayed under the blankets they’d be fine. There was hardly anything in the room, just a chipped wooden table with no chair, a dented lamp, and a small end table with a book on it.

But most importantly, it had a bed.

Without even pausing to turn off the lamp, Frisk flopped down on the bed. Just like the key, the sheets smelled like cinnamon, like someone had made Toriel’s pie on the blankets, or maybe put some in the washer. Did monsters use cinnamon-scented detergent? Frisk didn’t know.

_Maybe I’ll ask when I wake up,_  they thought.

When they woke up turned out to be one minute later, according to the phone Toriel had given them.

The sound was all too familiar to Frisk. They’d heard enough snoring to last them a few lifetimes. But this, this was particularly obnoxious. It sounded like Farmer Brown’s pig had gotten hold of a megaphone and was blaring its snorting right into their ear canal. It was the kind of snoring that made Frisk want to gouge out their eardrums just so they’d never hear anything like it again.

Frisk stuck their head underneath the pillow, but it didn’t do anything to muffle the sound. They sat up, folded up the blanket, and piled that on top of it before shoving their head underneath it again, but even when they hid their hands underneath them too to plug their ears, the volume didn’t go down. In fact, Frisk was sure they were snoring louder.

Frisk sighed, grabbed the key from the table, and went back downstairs. At least if Papyrus captured them they might be able to get some sleep.

* * *

The third time Frisk got a chance to sleep, it wasn’t even sleep at all. They’d just passed out after Undyne cut the bridge underneath them. One moment, they’d realized they weren’t flying after all, but falling, and the next they’d slipped into unconsciousness.

They were lying in the dark, on cold and hard stone. They got the feeling that someone was standing in front of them, but they couldn’t see anything, except maybe something pale, and about their size?

They realized the person in front of them was speaking.

“Oh, you’ve fallen down, haven’t you?” the voice asked. Their voice was high-pitched in the way children like Frisk spoke. “Are you okay?”

Frisk wanted to sign, to hold up a thumb to say yes, but they couldn’t. They didn’t feel in control of their own body.

“Here, get up.” Something came closer to Frisk’s face. It was white, and soft, and furry, and had one too few fingers.

Frisk took it without meaning to, and the figure pulled them onto their feet.

“What’s your name?” the person in front of them asked.

Frisk wanted to jump in surprise when their mouth opened and gave them one. They didn’t mean to speak. They didn’t mean to give the person a name that wasn’t theirs.

“That’s a nice name.” The voice sounded like it was coming from further away. The sensation of stone beneath their sneakers was fading, too. It was like they were falling, or maybe rising. “My name is–”

Frisk blinked their eyes open.

They saw a golden flower.

They jumped backward, landing on their backside in water, expecting little specks of magic to come flying at them.

Nothing happened.

They took a deep breath and forced themself to look, really look, at what they’d seen.

It was a bed of golden flowers.

_I must be jumpy because I haven’t gotten any sleep,_  they thought, and continued on their way, veering a long way around the golden flowers.

* * *

Frisk had liked Napstablook before–not liking the ghost, in their opinion, was worse than kicking a puppy–but when Napstablook scared away the dummy that’d attacked them for no reason they almost declared them their best friend then and there.

And then Napstablook had invited them to their house, and let them listen to their music, and gave them food. Well, tried to give them food, but it was the thought that counted.

But after that came Frisk’s favorite part:

“After a great meal I like to lie on the floor and feel like garbage.”

Frisk nearly cheered–not at the thought of Napstablook feeling like garbage, that ghost should not feel sorry a day in their life–but the thought of lying on the ground and getting some sleep was so appealing. They’d work on Napstablook’s self-esteem after a good nap.

“It’s a family tradition,” Napstablook trailed off, clearly thinking of something. Then, hesitantly, they asked, “Did you want to join me?”

Frisk nodded a bit too eagerly for one about to feel like garbage.

“Okay.” Napstablook sounded shocked. “Follow my lead.”

Frisk followed them away from the fridge and into the center of the room, where the ghost floated down until their back was on the floor. Frisk laid down nearby, so that if Napstablook had had feet Frisk might be able to touch them with theirs.

“Here we go.” Napstablook sounded slightly anxious. “You’ll remain laying down so long as you don’t move. So, only move around when you want to get up, I guess.”

Frisk blinked. What was Napstablook talking about?

_Who cares?_  they thought, and felt guilty for thinking it.  _I’ll worry about it once I get some rest._

They were just about to close their eyes when the room started to darken.

At first, they thought it was the lack of sleep, but then lights began to appear in the darkness, swirling, flickering, and Frisk realized they and Napstablook were at the center of a galaxy. It was frightening, but also kind of hypnotizing?

Certainly not restful, though.

They watched two galaxies merge in a dance before getting to their feet. The darkness pulled back to the corners of the room, bringing the universe with it. Napstablook floated up.

“Well, that was nice,” they said.

Not as nice as a proper sleep, Frisk decided, and left.

* * *

The next chance Frisk had to sleep wasn’t until the very end of Hotland. They ignored Sans–unless he had a bed somewhere in his pockets, they weren’t interested in anything he was selling–and marched into the building behind him, and grinned when the person greeting them mentioned it was a hotel.

They were so tired they barely registered that the monster running the front desk had a hand for a head. They handed over the gold they asked for without thinking, too; they just wanted to sleep. The monster handed them a key card and waved them away.

_Finally, I get to go to bed,_  Frisk thought, trudging down the hallway and past the janitor made of mud. If they’d had the energy, they would’ve skipped to the room.

The key card slid into the mechanism smoothly, and with a solid  _chunk!_  the door unlocked. They stepped in and jumped.

The music that was playing with the sounds they made pulsed louder, and then stopped.

Frisk gently went to take a step forward.

The music played for a second, and then stopped again.

Frisk slowly walked to the bed.

The music throbbed out a bass beat all the way there.

_Why did Mettaton take a hotel room and make it so every time you moved, music plays?_  Frisk shook their head. Every time they thought the robot couldn’t get any weirder, they came across more evidence to prove that he, in fact, could.

Whatever. They’d just have to lie still and hope they didn’t set the music off in their sleep.

That hope lasted all of thirty seconds after they crawled under the oversized bed’s covers, when they caught a whiff of perfume from the other side of the bed, and started sneezing uncontrollably. The party music followed them out the door.

As Frisk meandered out into the lobby, they caught a whiff of burgers coming from the nearby store. Their stomach clenched; the last time they’d eaten was at Sans’s hot dog stand.

They checked their pockets and groaned. All they had left were three coins, some pocket lint, and dog residue.

_Well, maybe Sans is still here,_  they thought.  _Maybe he’ll still have some free head dogs for me._

He was, in fact, still there, but by the time he left them, Frisk swore they’d never take him up on the offer for food again.

* * *

By the time Frisk came across the room with two twin-sized beds, they didn’t care if it was the king’s house. They just wanted to sleep.

They threw themself onto its mattress and buried their face into the pillow. Despite the thin layer of dust, it was the most comfortable thing they’d ever felt.

_This bed is so comfortable, I might not ever get up,_  they thought.

And then they remembered this was the king’s house. If Asgore came back and found a human asleep in his house, he’d kill them. Even though they might come back, it still wasn’t any fun being killed.

They slid themself off the mattress, gave it a longing look, and left the room and its temptation behind.

* * *

Frisk was running on empty. Only the occasional melted creature popping out of sinks or bathtubs was keeping Frisk awake. If they hadn’t, they were sure they’d have fallen asleep while walking.

_What sort of sick place is this?_  They asked themself this question for the hundredth time as they progressed deeper into the labyrinth beneath Alphys’s lab.  _And why’s it in Alphys’s bathroom?_

Finally, they stumbled around another corner and groaned. It wasn’t cruel enough to be deprived of sleep their entire time down there, but now they’d have to walk through a giant room filled wall-to-wall with beds?

_If I lay down on one, it’s going to turn all goopy and swallow me up,_  they told themself.

But they laid down on the nearest one anyway, and burrowed their face into the pillow. They didn’t even bother with the blanket; even down in the depths of the earth, it was warm enough to not need one.

_So far, so good,_  they thought.

No sooner had they thought this then they got the feeling they were being watched.

Frisk wanted to move, to run, but they felt anchored to the bed through fear and exhaustion.

Something out of the corner of their eye moved. It was a long, pale arm, almost transparent.

The arm came closer and closer…

There was a shuffling of sheets, and with a swift tug, the figure pulled the blanket over Frisk. Then they patted their head, leaving a sticky handprint in their hair, and vanished without even a single footstep.

Frisk waited, and then left the bed. They weren’t that desperate for sleep.

* * *

“Frisk!” The soft voice woke Frisk up from what they thought wasn’t a dream, the feeling of soft fur thick with the scent of flowers heavy in their mind. “This is all just a bad dream!”

It hadn’t been that bad, they thought. Just sad.

“Please, wake up!”

They blinked open their eyes and realized they were lying on the stone floor, where the barrier used to be. Their friends were standing over them, looming over them.

Everyone clamored around them, asking if they were okay. Sans joked about Papyrus crying while they were asleep, Alphys removed her glasses to rub at her eyes with her labcoat, Undyne snarled out a threat she clearly didn’t mean, and Asgore balanced a cup of cold tea in his hand.

“How about we give them space, first?” Toriel said to Asgore’s offer of the tea. “They must be exhausted.”

Frisk yawned. They were, in fact, exhausted. How had they managed to keep going so long? The only thing that had stopped them was the fact that they’d been chased by angry monsters, and every safe place had been too loud or otherwise frightening to sleep in.

They blinked. They were safe now, right? Flowey wasn’t going to hurt anyone anymore, right?

With a smile, Frisk laid back down. They ignored the startled questions of their friends, and within seconds they were drifting off to sleep.

_I hope I have good dreams,_  they thought, feeling themself fall into the darkness of sleep.  _After everything, I deserve that, at least._

**Author's Note:**

> Constructive criticism is welcomed!


End file.
